They sat around the table for over an hour, talking about one thing and another, exploring the idea of him coming back, but talking about the coming concert and other things, too. In the hour, several people stopped by their table to offer their condolences; some he remembered, some he didn't -- but they were people who remembered him.

Dave had remembered from years ago people saying if you wanted to talk to someone from Bradford, sooner or later they'd show up at the Chicago. One of the people who showed up was Cindy Stein. Dave didn't know her, but Emily did well, for the young-looking woman about their age was the principal of Bradford Elementary. Emily invited her to sit down and talk for a few minutes about the school, and she did. It turned out that not only was there room for Tyler and Cameron, there was plenty of room. The school had forty-eight kindergartners, which if broken down into three sections, was a little bigger than they liked, so they had four sections, an average of twelve kids to a teacher, plus two adult aides who rotated among the rooms. It was actually a better teacher-student ratio than the highly acclaimed and hugely expensive private school in Battery Park the boys had been attending! On top of that, Cindy said the schools were very strongly oriented in phonics-based reading instruction, a point so sensitive to Dave that it could have been a deal breaker.

Cindy said it was a shame that it was Saturday so he could see for himself, but she had some odds and ends to do at the school later today, and he was welcome to come by and check out the classrooms. Emily, whose kids were just on the point of getting out of elementary school, knew many of the teachers and had very high regard for several, especially in the kindergarten.

And if meeting Cindy weren't enough, after they'd finished breakfast and were winding down on their third cups of coffee, Arnold Perkins came walking in. Dave remembered Arnold from when he was growing up; he'd long been moved out of the house across the street; in fact, his kids had been among Dave's babysitters when he was little. It turned out JoAnne had already called Arnold about the house, whether it might still be available, and it was. Arnold said he'd rather have it occupied than empty, and was willing to work with Dave on a relatively short-term rental. After a few minutes, he invited Dave over to check it out.

Since things were breaking up -- both Emily and Dayna had much to do to get ready for the evening -- Dave and Shae followed Arnold back over there. Not to Dave's surprise, he led the two of them around the back and walked in the back door -- it was unlocked, naturally. The house was empty; although Mrs. Perkins had been dead for a couple years; a few snags had slowed down its being cleared out and put on the market. From a cursory inspection, it seemed to be in good shape, although there were a few places in need of paint, and some odds and ends that needed fixing, nothing was major. Dave told him he still hadn't made up his mind to come back to Bradford, but if he did, being right across the street from his mother's would make this place the logical candidate.

By the time they worked that much out it was near noon, but after a late breakfast it was too early for lunch, so he and Shae drove around a little and walked down Main Street, just getting a feeling for what the place was like. After that, they drove over to the elementary school, to find the kindergarten was in a newer section of the building, which now had new classrooms and an auditorium built since Shae and he had been students there. The school seemed modern and well kept; the kindergarten rooms were bright and cheery.

The afternoon seemed to slip away from them; they decided to skip the Chicago for an early dinner, and go out to the Country Kettle, which Emily told them was better on dinners, anyway. It had been years since Dave had been there, but the food was still good; it was a pleasant dinner. They headed back to town by a different road for the sake of seeing more of the area, and this one took them over the Curtis Road overpass. "Don't get any big ideas," Shae grinned as she slowed, to let him get a mental image of her flashing traffic as a teenager.

By then, it was getting close to concert time, so they went back to the house to change clothes. Emily had told them "casual," which meant one thing in New York, but something else entirely in Bradford, Dave knew well. He settled on a pair of slacks and a polo shirt he'd been wearing all day, with a light jacket. Shae, on the other hand, put on a red dress, midthigh, showing some cleavage -- Dave said he thought she looked pretty darn good for Bradford, but Shae said she didn't think she should overdo it.

Even though they were way early getting to the school, the parking lot was already jammed, and the floor and bleachers in the new gym were filling fast. The new gym was only a few years old, built since Dave and Shae had been in school. Shae commented that the lighting was a hell of a lot better for basketball than in the old one. The new gym featured a stage, which the old one had lacked, and there was a good-sized stack of sound equipment and speakers, with musical instruments sitting around. Emily soon found them and led them backstage, where they were introduced to the members of the two bands that would join Dayna and Sandy; Dave thanked them personally for coming. As show time neared, Emily took them out to some reserved seats down in front.

The floor of the gym was filled with chairs, and the bleachers were pulled out and full when show time came. By then it was close to SRO, and people kept coming in during the first set. Emily came out on the stage -- somewhere along the way she'd changed from the sweatshirt and jeans she'd worn earlier to a flashy sequined gown -- and briefly thanked everyone for coming and for supporting the benefit, and introduced the Michigan Hillbillies. Dave was no fan of country music, but the Hillbillies weren't bad, considering. They seemed to have some decent musical talent with lots of bluegrass-style fiddles and mandolins. Their lead vocalist did have a southern accent, but he didn't sing through his nose, so that helped, too.

After a brief intermission Dayna and Sandy came on, dressed a little flashy. Dave had only met Sandy backstage earlier; she was a little shorter than Dayna, a little thicker, with long, curly, dark blonde hair and an infectious smile, different from Dayna but just as nice looking. As advertised, Sandy was a terrific musician, but only backed up Dayna's lead. Dayna was very, very good, singing with a lot of power and a lot of soul. Sometimes both played guitars, sometimes Sandy played a keyboard instead, and sometimes Dayna didn't use her guitar. Over a period of an hour, they did several songs, a few of which Dave had heard on their albums, like Lonesome Midnight and Cold Cold Heart, both rather smoky blues pieces, and the lighter Pick Me, Please -- which drew a special laugh from some of the crowd, those who were probably aware of the special background of the piece, although Dayna said nothing about it. There were more pieces he hadn't heard; the most impressive was the finale, the intricate and powerful Experience of Survival.

It turned out the last was intentionally a lead in to Emily coming back on the stage and taking the microphone. "Thank you, everyone," she said. "When Dayna suggested she and Sandy do Experience of Survival, it seemed especially appropriate. You all know why we're here, to raise funds for the victims and families of that terrible day of September 11."

She stopped for a second, and continued. "We have with us tonight a man who came from Bradford, who now lives in New York, who had the experience of survival on September 11, but suffered a terrible tragedy in the loss of his wife, Julie. He offered to say a few words tonight, and I am not going to turn him down. Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce to you Bradford's son, Dave Patterson."

Dave got up and climbed the steps to the stage, taking the microphone from Emily, and looked out over the huge, but hushed crowd. "Eleven days ago," he began, "I was walking down a New York City sidewalk on my way to work, when I saw the first airplane strike the north tower of the World Trade Center. I stood there in disbelief as it burned, and in anguish and terror as it collapsed." He took a deep breath, fought back the tears, and continued in an obviously tortured voice, "I heard my wife's last words on my cell phone as she rode the top of that huge building down."

He took another deep breath and continued in a more level tone, "I cannot describe the depth of shock and sorrow I felt. All I could think about was my two children, the one thing of real value my wife had left me. They had been evacuated from their school, and I frantically searched for them for hours, before finding them in a shelter that had been hurriedly set up. I had called my mother here in Bradford several times, and I called her to tell her with relief I had finally found the boys. Once we were together, there was nothing I could do but let tears and depression and grief overwhelm me. The next thing I can remember is seeing someone I had not seen in many years, Shae Kirkendahl, who's with me tonight, and her friend, Eve McClellan. All three of us graduated from Bradford in 1988. Why were they there? Because another member of our class, your master of ceremonies, Emily Holst, heard about my situation from my mother, called friends I had not seen for over a decade, and told them to go get me."

He took another deep breath and went on. "The point to this story is simple. In my years in New York I had mostly forgotten about Bradford, but Bradford hadn't forgotten about me. In my hour of need, it wasn't New York that reached out for me. It was Bradford. I have received nothing but kindness and courtesy and help from Bradford, much more than I could possibly accept. I told Emily when she proposed this event tonight that I would take no money from it, and that stands. I have financial reserves to carry me over. Many others do not, and many of them lost more than I. So, it's for those people I stand here tonight to thank you for your donations and your support. We have been struck by one terrible act of terrorism. However, we also have been struck by millions of acts of kindness.

"I have been gone from Bradford over thirteen years, and have lived in New York virtually all that time, so I think it's fair to call me a New Yorker now. I'm even a Yankees fan, which some people here might think is the ultimate sin. I think I can safely speak for we New Yorkers and others who were touched directly a week ago Tuesday and tell you that, while we may love New York, people like you here in Bradford and other small towns across the country are the heart and the soul of this country, and we deeply thank you for it. God bless America."

The applause was thunderous. He'd expected something polite, and figured he'd get some in spite of the near silence into which his words had been directed, but nothing like this. It was a roar like he couldn't have imagined, and it was hard to believe the walls of the gym could hold it all in. It was all he could keep to do from crying again, this time not in grief, but in wonder and thankfulness and joy. He waved Emily over, holding the microphone out to her; she came over to him, but motioned Shae up on the stage to join them, holding them around the waist briefly as they waved their arms into the storm of sound. Finally, she let them go, took the microphone, and they descended the stairs to their seats.

"Dave," she said as the roar died down. "You may think you're a New Yorker, but you're still one of us, and we don't let go easily. Thank you for your words, and speaking for everyone here, we'd like to extend our deepest sympathies at your loss. I don't know what else I can say besides thanking everyone for being here, and saying," she raised her voice in pitch and excitement, "Ladies and gentlemen, Cold Spring Rain!"

The band swung into one of their familiar pieces of music, but the roar of the crowd was so loud that for a long time even Dave couldn't make out the tune.

When Cold Spring Rain got into their set with their big collection of amps and speakers, it set the gym to shaking like it never had before. The crowd was really up, and the band had to go through several encores. Finally, Dayna and Sandy and the Michigan Hillbillies got up on the stage with them, while Emily motioned for Dave and Shae to join them as they asked the crowd to join in with God Bless America. It just about brought down the house; people were cheering, and some were crying, Dave among them, touched at their show of support. He knew he'd draw strength from this event for a long time to come.

Dave and Shae were a long time getting out of the gym; people kept coming over, giving hugs, offering condolences, offering prayers and support. They joined a group that included several '88s and headed out to the truck stop for a late meal and some serious exchange of friendship. He was still pretty thrilled and excited when they got back to his mother's house.

Days before, Eve had warned Dave to not get too dependent on sleeping pills, to try to get through at least some nights without them. So far he hadn't tried, but the combination of a short night the night before, a busy day, and then a heady and exciting evening led him to think he might not head off into a deep depression and nightmares. This was the best chance he'd had to try it clean, even though he knew it might be a while before he got to sleep.

Perhaps a little reading would help him calm down, he thought. His mother's reading tastes didn't match up with his very much, but he wound up with an old, old Zane Gray western, Green Grass of Wyoming, part of a green-bound set likely twice as old as he was. He might have read this book back when he was a kid; he couldn't remember for sure. It would do.

He propped up the pillows on the bed, stripped to his underwear -- he normally was a pajama sleeper, but they were all still in Battery Park Village and he just hadn't thought to get more -- turned on the reading light, and settled in with the western. Critically, and from a professional viewpoint, it was a little dated and trite, but it held his interest a little and that really was all he wanted.

It distracted him enough that he didn't notice Shae looking into the room until she tapped lightly on the door. He glanced up to see here standing there, wearing just a T-shirt and panties. "Dave," she said softly, "I need to talk to you." As she spoke, he could see she had been crying, perhaps still was a little.

"Shae?"

She came into the room and sat down on the bed next to him, twisting a little to face him. He could see her breasts straining against her T-shirt, and could see she wasn't wearing a bra. "Dave," she said sadly, "You're going to do it, aren't you?"

"I think so," he said.

"Dave," she started, them fumbled for words for a second. "I don't know how to say this," she said finally, "I don't even know if I should say it. But Dave, please don't. I want you and the boys to stay with me."

"Why, Shae?" he said softly.

"Because I'm selfish, that's why," she said sadly, the tears rolling down her cheeks. "Because I'm lonely, Dave, I'm lonely as hell. It's been bad ever since I had to break up with Larry. I had Raylene living with me until last spring, but we weren't friends, we were just roomies; we didn't even like each other very much." She stopped for a moment, took a breath, and wiped the tears from her eyes. "I don't know what I'd have done if I didn't have Eve and John and their kids. I've been over there a lot the last few months, leeching off their friendship. She understands why, she had to leech off mine for years, she knows how it works. Dave, I know losing Julie is about the most terrible possible tragedy you could have in your life. But Dave, that night I held you in my arms while you cried your eyes out was the first time in a long time that I've felt someone needed me. I really like the boys, they seem to like me, they're a lot of fun, and I feel like they need me, too. If you stayed with me, I could help you recover, and you could help me feel needed. And maybe, well, after a while . . ." her voice drifted off, obviously reaching for the right thing to say.

"There could be something more?" he finished for her in soft words.

"Yeah, Dave. I've told you about some of the troubles I've had with men, the jocks, the jerks, the kinks. Dave, you aren't any of those. You're just about the nicest guy I've ever known, and I think Julie was lucky as hell to have you. And then add your boys, and it's pretty close to all I've wanted for years, and I don't seem to get any closer to it. Dave, I know it's going to take some time, but I think we can make it work."

She looked in his eyes, and he could see they were still wet with tears. He realized he'd been seeing signs of this from her over the last few days, but in his grief hadn't put them together. Now, with it out before them, several things snapped into focus. "Shae," he said slowly. "I have to talk about feelings I haven't even put into words for myself, OK?" She nodded, but said nothing, and he continued, "I can't tell you when I started to realize there was going to have to be a life after Julie." He let out a long sigh, and added. "I guess I haven't really fully realized it yet."

"I know," she nodded. "I've tried to help."

"You've been a big help," he told her. "Shae, although I guess I knew it, I hadn't put into words until just now the realization that life after Julie could involve someone else, but now that I look at it that way, I think I've been seeing it could happen and in time probably should happen. The boys are young enough they need a mother, or at least someone filling in for her."

"I realize that," she said. "I've tried to help with it, too."

"I know you have," he smiled. "You've done well, and they really like you. Shae, I'll be honest. Our interests have moved a lot closer together than they were in high school. I think you're a nice and warm and loving person who's given a lot of love to others over the years and deserves to have someone give some back. Shae, you're not Julie. She had some qualities you just don't compare to. And you have some qualities where she had no comparison to you."

He reached out and took her hand, then continued. "Shae, we've been friends for a long time. Considering where we come from, we share some things we can't share with anyone else. Shae, I like you a lot, and in time the idea could have a lot of potential. But Shae, it's only been eleven days. It's just . . . too . . . soon."

She shook her head and sighed. "I was afraid that was what you were going to say. I agree, it's too soon. You deserve the chance to mourn Julie, the time to put your head back together. But Dave, if you and the boys stay with me, I can help. I can't be as much help if you're here."

"It might well be," he nodded. "And it might take longer, too. The one thing you can say about Bradford is it's not New York. Julie was a foreigner here; she never liked it the few times we came, so we didn't come much. There's not much to remind me of her here. But God, in New York, there's no getting away from that hole in the scenery where the World Trade Center used to stand, with the smoke of Julie's funeral pyre hanging in the sky."

"I realize that," she said. "And I don't know what to tell you other than it will heal as time passes."

"I'm sure it will," he said. "But I think it will do it more quickly here. Now, as we're just sitting here talking, I'm coming to think that if we want to have a future, it might be best if we backed off from each other a little for a while. Shae, we hadn't seen each other for many years until a week ago Tuesday, and ever since then you've only seen me in the most unnatural and horrible stress I've ever endured in my life. Maybe we shouldn't be trying to make judgments about each other while I'm this stressed."

"Yeah, that's true," she nodded. "But I can see through the stress to the warm and decent guy underneath. I can look at the boys and see how decent a guy you are."

"The boys are another issue," he said. "Don't get me wrong, they need someone to fill in the role of a mother. Shae, you know I lost my father when I was a little younger than Cameron. I don't remember him very well. I feel I owe it to Julie to help them to remember her. I think they need a little time to solidify their memories of her, without getting them confused with impressions of you."

"And that shows just how decent you are. You still love her, don't you?"

"I'll always love her, Shae. You and I could have the greatest love in the world, and there'd still be a spot in my heart you could never fill. Julie was the mother of my children, and I've been with her almost every day for over ten years. But I need the time to get it into perspective, too. Like I said, it's just . . . too . . . soon."

"All right, Dave," she nodded quietly. "I can't argue with that. I came in here prepared to throw my body at you if I had to," she let out a sigh, then continued. "But it's too soon for that, too, isn't it?"

"Afraid so," he smiled. "But Shae, I want to be careful and not say anything that sounds like a promise or a commitment or something, but it won't always be too soon. And I think the time will come more quickly if I'm here."

"Can I come and visit you?" she asked in a small voice.

"Whenever you want," he smiled. "The boys will want to see you; they like their Aunt Shae. And don't forget, I'll be in New York every few weeks."

"You're staying with me," she said flatly. "None of this hotel shit, OK?"

"On one condition," he smiled. "Shae, we're both adults. We don't need to be using sex as a bludgeon to beat the other person into doing something they shouldn't be doing, OK? If it happens, it'll happen in its own good time."

"All right," she smiled, seeming a little less troubled. "I may tease you a little in fun from time to time, but if I get too blatant, tell me to knock it off and I will. But Dave?"

"Yes, Shae?"

"The other night, you needed to be held and cuddled, and just have someone there. Tonight I need it. I mean, just friends. We don't have to do anything more, and I promise you I won't hit on you or push it." She let out a sigh. "It's not anything new. I used to have to do it for Eve once in a while. The last few years she's had to do it for me, just to give me the strength to carry on for a while."

Without saying anything, he sat up, slid to one side, and dismantled his backrest of pillows, while she slid under the covers beside him. "Me, too," he whispered as he felt her slide close to him.

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